


Casting the Net

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Neglect, Slytherin House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape takes his duties as a head of house very seriously. He's there for his snakes - always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have two unfinished stories already but I have no self-control so here's another one.

Severus Snape is not a patient man. He has little time for those who do not apply themselves and refuses to pander to the every whim of those students who believe they can breeze through their studies with little effort. He is a firm believer that Potions is a subject which cannot wholly be taught - it requires a certain degree of natural aptitude.

While Snape might not be a patient man, or indeed a kind one, it is widely known that he favours his Slytherins above any other house. His Slytherins, however, know differently. He does not favour them for the sake of favouritism. He favours them because he knows from personal experience that they will be shunned by the majority of other students simply for their sorting. He knows that they will learn to prickle in self-defence before they've been attacked.

So, he favours them and he doesn't have to justify himself to anyone.

Slytherin house values self-preservation. As such, Snape has more hurting children in his care than he tends to broadcast. Surviving abuse requires a person to consider their own needs above those of others; Snape would know. From the moment the first years walk nervously into the Great Hall, he sees it. Accidental glamour charms mask the bruises, the malnutrition. First years, as a general rule, fidget with constant nerves before the Sorting which is to be expected but sometimes he can see it in the way their fingers nervously trace invisible scars on their arms. He sees how they walk in absolute silence, how their eyes remain trained on the ground. He can read the slump of their shoulders and the exhaustion in their eyes like pages of a book.

For this reason, he's glad they usually end up in his house. He may not be a patient man but he is highly observant and well-versed in the subtlety of the pained child's mind and mannerisms. It’s the ones who don’t end up in his house who make it difficult for him. The other heads of house, though competent, do not have his experience and each tends to manhandle the situation in their own way. Sprout is too mollycoddling, Flitwick too clinical, and McGonagall is simply at a loss for what to do. Gryffindor house is not known to shelter many abused youngsters. Snape suspects, given time and practice, McGonagall would be better suited to the job than himself. He is not a patient man.

However, time and practice are the two things she cannot be given. These are children’s lives and hearts and minds – they cannot be used as training materials. So, Snape takes it upon himself to seek out those in other houses who give him cause for concern, knowing only his snakes will ever feel comfortable enough to approach him directly. And it is vitally important that they come to him of their own free will – forcing an abused child to talk is always much more difficult. For this task, he often enlists his carefully-chosen Prefects to act as guides. They are subtle in their encouragement and so the vast majority seek him out within the first month. Those who don’t are given gentle reminders until they feel calm enough to come to him.

Regardless, he _will_ seek them out before Christmas.

He is under no illusions, however, that he casts his net wide enough to catch every case of abuse to pass through the Hogwarts halls. It is an unfortunate truth that magical children are victims of abuse more often than muggle children. Pureblood families, such as the Malfoys, are conservative and set in their ways. Using the unforgivable curses to punish children has been custom since long before the curses were given their name. Muggleborns often suffer a different form of abuse, usually manifesting itself n alienation due to a complete lack of understanding on behalf of the parents. Though, in some cases, Snape remembers muggles resorting to physical violence as a method of quashing the bizarre happenings surrounding their children.

Half-bloods tend to be the safest, so to speak, though Snape does not let blood status fool him. A half-blood and survivor himself, he knows such things can be deceiving. Still, statistically speaking, half-bloods are among those children least subject to abuse. Snape can’t explain why – it’s simply the way of things.

He does his best, though his best is far from what is required. The Headmaster, well-meaning though he is, is utterly incompetent when it comes to children such as this. All too often, the foolish man clings to the Gryffindor belief that people will always do what is right in the end and that love will conquer all. Snape knows it is not so. He knows his mother loved him dearly but he still bears the marks of broken beer bottles on his shoulders from his father’s drunken rages. Love has very little to do with it.

Snape hates to send them back but sometimes there is nothing more he can do short of taking them in himself. Too many of them are purebloods; too many children of Death Eaters. As much as he hates to see them suffer, he is all too often forced to consider the bigger picture. They are fighting a war, after all (though, Snape firmly believes that there is no situation in which the abuse of a child is justified.).

When Snape makes his start of year speech in the Slytherin common room, he is careful to throw well-placed glances towards those most vulnerable in his charge. He stresses house loyalty even more so than McGonagall, explaining that, as Slytherins, they will be held to a higher standard. Every slip up will be viewed by the other houses as a colossal defeat. It is best, therefore, to present a united front.

He also stresses, even more strongly, that under no circumstances will bullying be tolerated. He reserves his harshest glare for this section and is more often than not satisfied by the fearful looks which flit across their young faces. It is at this point that he realises, every year without fail, that they are children. Children require protection and he sees it as his duty to provide them with it to the extent that he is able.

Severus Snape is not a patient man but he protects his own and his Slytherins are as close to family as he will ever know.


	2. Marcus Wilson - Pureblood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features mentions of emotional abuse.

It’s no secret that Snape doesn’t enjoy teaching. He’s not encouraging and he simply doesn’t understand why Potions doesn’t come naturally to everyone as it does for him. These traits make teaching difficult. He doesn’t understand how they can possibly mix up bicorn horn and unicorn horn when the properties of the two aren’t even remotely similar. It infuriates him to no end and he often finds himself scrawling snarky comments in the margins in the hope that at least some of the little brats will take them under advisement.

If it hadn’t been for Dumbledore, Snape knows he would be rotting in Azkaban. It’s for this reason that he tries so hard to settle into a teaching post but it goes against his entire nature. He wonders sometimes if Azkaban would be better. After all, there were no children in Azkaban.

Christmas break is fast approaching by the time it happens for the first time. Marcus Wilson doesn’t hand in an assignment.

At first, Snape is surprised. The boy is annoyingly diligent when it comes to homework. This is the first time any student has failed to hand in an assignment to him – most likely because they fear his wrath – and he finds himself quite at a loss for what to do. So, he does the only thing he can think of – he seeks the advice of Minerva McGonagall.

She laughs when he tells her.

“Oh, Severus,” she says, smirking in an uncommonly Slytherin way. “I’d didn’t think there was a student in the entire school who would dare fail to hand in an assignment to you of all people.”

Snape scowls. He likes McGonagall. She shares his dry sense of humour and, though she had been initially wary to welcome him back knowing what he’d been, she had warmed to him quickly enough. It had been McGonagall who had sought him out after his first day of teaching with a bottle of Firewhiskey. She’d spent much of the night with him, saying little, before leaving him to his thoughts. From then on, they’d formed something of an alliance.

“I had rather thought the same,” he says bitterly.

“Clearly your reign of terror requires work,” she says mildly, offering him a biscuit which he curtly refuses. She takes one herself. “Have you considered hanging offenders by their thumbs in the dungeons?”

Snape’s scowl deepens. “I had rather hoped you would take the problem seriously, Minerva.”

She chuckles. “Of course,” she agrees. “Who is the child?”

“Marcus Wilson,” Snape tells her and the smile immediately slips from her face.

“Wilson?” She asks, frowning. “He’s one of yours, isn’t he?”

Snape nods, unsure where she’s going with this.

“He didn’t hand in my last essay either,” she admits and Snape frowns.

“Why, may I ask, was I not informed of this?” He snapped. “As his head of house…”

“You are to be informed when a student misses two or more consecutive assignments,” she finishes for him. He bites his tongue. “I really don’t know what Albus was thinking, making you Head of Slytherin before you even had a chance to step foot in a classroom.”

Snape silently agrees, though outwardly he says, “Well, if you think I am unfit for the task…”

“Nonsense, Severus,” she says with a wave of her hand. “You’re far better suited to the position than Horace ever was.”

“Being more incompetent than Horace Slughorn would indeed be an impressive feat,” he says dryly, making McGonagall snort in amusement.

“Quite,” she agrees. After a moment, she adds, “So, what do you intend to do about Mr Wilson?”

Snape frowns. “I had rather hoped you would have some advice.”

McGonagall smiles; it’s not often Severus Snape asks for anything. Ignoring his apparent discomfort with the situation, she says, “Have you considered simply speaking to the boy?”

“I have,” Snape replies, somewhat offended that she would think he hadn’t considered that as an option.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Why have you not done so?”

Snape barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “I wished first of all to consult you.”

“In that case, may I advise that you are gentle with the boy, Severus?” She suggests, somewhat hesitantly. “Surely you have noticed that he hasn’t been himself?”

Snape had indeed noticed. The boy had been all over the place with his Potions work recently while usually he was a highly competent student.

“I shall deal with the boy however I see fit,” he huffs and, with that, he sweeps from McGonagall’s office.

She shakes her head at his retreating back. That boy really needs to learn how to ask for and accept help. Being thrown into a teaching post is difficult enough without also being a head of house. Still, she has no doubt Severus will handle it. He’s handled worse, after all.

~

Snape seeks the boy out that evening after dinner, finding him, unsurprisingly, in the library.

“Mr Wilson,” he says impassively, making the boy jump. “If you’ll come with me.”

Ignoring Madam Pince’s glare, he sweeps away with Wilson following behind at a nervous jog. As they make their way to his office, Snape ponders McGonagall’s advice. Be gentle with the boy, she’d said. Snape sneers at the thought. Being gentle isn’t exactly in his nature. No, it had clearly been a mistake to seek McGonagall’s advice. He’ll handle this better his own way.

“In,” he snaps, holding the door open. Wilson trudges past him resignedly. Snape shuts the door loudly behind him and strides to his desk. “Sit,” he orders, doing the same.

Snape eyes the boy closely. It is true that he has been somewhat distant these past few weeks, ever since the midterm reports had been issued. From what Snape can recall, Wilson had done well. He was well on track to complete the second year curriculum to a high standard in all of his subjects. This apparent indifference to homework deadlines bothers Snape because it is so very unlike him.

“Professor McGonagall and I have had a very enlightening discussion, Mr Wilson,” he begins softly, using his most dangerous tone. Regardless of what excuses the boy is likely to sprout, he needs to know that missing deadlines is not acceptable under any circumstances. He notes, with no small sense of satisfaction, the panic in the boy’s eyes. “Would you care to explain why you have failed to hand in not only your Potions essay but your last Transfiguration assignment as well?”

Wilson swallows and shakes his head.

“A verbal answer,” Snape snarls impatiently. Had Mr Wilson been in any other house, Snape would no doubt have verbally ripped him to shreds by now. But, as things stand, he is a Slytherin and, as his head of house, Snape has a duty to at least attempt to get to the bottom of this.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Wilson mumbles.

Snape waits for him to continue, to provide an explanation, but it is soon clear that he has no intentions of doing so.

“Remorseful as you may be, Mr Wilson,” Snape says cooly. “An apology does not substitute an explanation.”

When the first tears start to fall, Snape knows he is out of his depth. He feels the anger flaring up inside him and has to swallow it down. There is something much deeper going on here and Snape is starting to get a horrible feeling that it has something to do with Wilson’s academic report.

Snape transfigures a spare sheet of parchment into a handkerchief and awkwardly thrusts it at the boy in a fumbled attempt at comfort.

“Mr Wilson,” he begins again, fighting to keep the impatience out of his voice. He finds himself wishing McGonagall were here. She has much more experience with snivelling children. “Kindly explain what is troubling you.”

“I really am sorry, sir,” the boy says emphatically, swallowing his tears admirably. “I- I couldn’t do it.”

“The essay?” Snape asks neutrally.

“Yes, sir.”

Snape finds this difficult to believe. Wilson has always been far ahead of his peers in terms of Potions theory and his practical work is not far behind. That he could possibly have difficulty completing an essay most of his class had managed fairly competently – and, for Snape, this was praise indeed – is difficult to digest.

“The truth, please,” he insists, voice more harsh than before.

Wilson’s frightened eyes meet his own and he whispers pathetically, “It is the truth, sir.”

The boy is hiding something and doing so badly. He seems to be nearing the end of his tether. If Snape pushes just a little harder.

“Does your unwillingness to turn in your homework bear any relation to reactions to your mid-term report?” He asks simply, seeing no need to beat around the bush. If the boy doesn’t want to tell him, the only way to get the truth is to shock it out of him.

And this is exactly what he does. Wilson shakes his head but his expression speaks volumes – his eyes widen in shock that Snape could possibly _know_ and his constant fidgeting ceases, leaving him impossibly still. It’s with a heavy heart that Snape recognises this tactic. It’s one with which he is intimately familiar; if you pretend to be invisible, they might not notice you’re there.

A picture begins to form in Snape’s mind of what goes on behind closed doors. The boy doesn’t say a word but his actions confirm Snape’s suspicions adequately. He knows Wilson is a pureblood. He knows of the boy’s parents and doesn’t find it difficult to believe that they would go to extreme lengths to produce perfection from the boy. For how long it has been a problem, Snape isn’t sure, but the learned way the child shies away from him suggests it has been going on for some times.

Snape wonders what the boy knows he can expect if he falls below the expected standard.

Exhausted with the emotionally charged situation, Snape pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes. He takes a deep breath.

“Very well, Mr Wilson,” he says and his voice sounds much calmer than he feels. “You are dismissed. Do not return to the library tonight.”

Wilson looks at him knowingly but leaves without protest. Snape sighs. It will take a long time to convince Mr Wilson that his essays need not be perfect to achieve high marks. Snape has no doubt that this is why he has failed to hand in his homework. He fear the wrath of his parents if he does not achieve perfect results. Though it is true that Snape is hard on his students, he finds anger bubbling within him at the thought of what the boy must go through to produce such fear of failure.

He is still a child.

Snape curses Slughorn. The man could never see more than two inches beyond the end of his nose. He cared only about making connections, about gathering talent and status. Slughorn had failed to notice Snape’s own home situation and Merlin only knew how many others had slipped by due to Slughorn’s carelessness.

Snape makes a silent promise to himself than that he will not allow himself to mirror Slughorn’s incompetency. He _will_ help Mr Wilson, in his own fumbling way, and any more who enter into his care. He is a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherin House take care of their own.


End file.
